Post-It: ETD 00:04am

[maced_eggs]

[Video]

[Sometime shortly before lunch, an explosion of suds and soapy water escapes the laundry room, leaking out into the hallway. The immediate cause may or may not be Mason, who stands ankle-deep in the flood, missing his shirt and watching in horrified fixation as his own clothes not only wash themselves, but overload all the machines.]


This was not my fault.

...Honestly!!

But I should really like someone corporeal to come do my washing so that this does not happen again.

If anything, it's the Barge's fault for making its machines so bloody complicated. Who the fuck has ghosts doing their fuckin' laundry?

[He sits down in the suds, watching the self-washing laundry in perplexed hopelessness. Might as well take a bath while he's at it]

Comments

[sickjoke]

So you.

Steal clothes.

[ MASON. ]

[maced_eggs]

Yeah.

But mainly off of dead people. No harm done.

See, what happens is, I reap someone who looks about my size, and I ask him where he lived. He goes off to the hereafter, I go to his apartment before anyone else and raid his closet for things I like.

[sickjoke]

No, no. That... doesn't make it better.

[ He's facepalming so hard, even with no face. ]

[maced_eggs]

'Course it does. They can't use it. I'm putting it where it does the most good.

[sickjoke]

You realize you're doing that to people who have friends and family who might want a say in the deceased's belongings, right?

Because what they need on top of having someone die is to have that someone's apartment ransacked.

[maced_eggs]

I like to think of it as collecting my fee for being so good about getting the soul off to where it needs to be.

People die all the time. You can't take it with you. So it goes to me.

[sickjoke]

[ That's so selfish and creepy, Mason, you don't even know. ]

I think this mess is cosmic punishment from the Gods.

[maced_eggs]

[Nope. no clue]

I thought being in prison was punishment enough.

[sickjoke]

Noooooooo, not so much.

Sometimes you get special reminders that what you do is wrong.

[maced_eggs]

Yes, but how is it wrong? If you're dead, who the fuck cares who nicks your stuff after you're gone?

[sickjoke]

Your friends. Your family. The people you leave behind. [ Duh, Mason. ] Seriously. How do you now get thaqt people are not islands?

Right, let's get this-- cleaned up...

[ He's not taking off his gloves, jacket or rolling up his sleeves. He is, however, reaching to haul Mason along. ]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason doesn't move until he's physically dragged along, opening his mouth in protest]

I don't see why I have to clean it up if I didn't make the mess..

[sickjoke]

Yeah, well, life isn't fair.

[ Come on, tine to get laundry out of these things. And get royally soaked in the process. ]

[maced_eggs]

[he does so, dragging his feet the whole way through]

Death. Death is not fair.

[sickjoke]

Whatever, kid. Haul laundry more, whine less.

[ Sometimes it takes some tough love to get through these sorts. ]

[maced_eggs]

[Kid? Whine? Mason takes the opportunity to make faces at Red Hood behind his back, dragging out piles of wet clothes in his arms]

How old do you think I am, exactly?

[sickjoke]

Old enough to know better, still young enough to not care.

[ Ha ha. ]

[maced_eggs]

I care about important things.

Laundry is not one of these things.

[sickjoke]

Laundry is important if you are not a thief and enjoy not smelling like a sty.

[maced_eggs]

...Ergo laundry is not important, Little Red.

[sickjoke]

Red Hood. There's nothing about me that qualifies as 'little'.

[ ...that wasn't a dick joke, we swear. He's over six-four! ]

[maced_eggs]

Little Red Riding Hood.

Little Red.

Can't blame me when you go around looking like you do.

[sickjoke]

I am neither riding nor little. So: Red Hood.

[maced_eggs]

That makes no bloody sense.

[sickjoke]

Neither does stealing from the dead so you don't have to buy a pair of darn jeans!